


i'm a can on a string, you're on the end

by bogfable



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Crushes, Crying, Dialogue Heavy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Family, Found Family, M/M, MLM WLW solidarity, Multi, Pining, Smoking, Talking, a little hint of beauyashter/beayasha as a treat, beau and cad talk about their feeeelings, idk if i can edit this to be aroace.. i rly like this fic but i dont like the shippy part w cad now, written pre-aroace confirmation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:55:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24577174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bogfable/pseuds/bogfable
Summary: In which Beau and Caduceus talk about their feelings about their friends (who they're in love with), their families (who they have not-the-best relationships with), and smoke some weed (all the way from the blooming grove).hehe im tired. and proofread like 1 time. hope you enjoy !(also someday i'll write a fic that doesn't feature crying and hugging)_______She’d meant to talk to Caduceus several days ago. She’d purposely asked him if he wanted to make some tea and tagged along. But as they stood in the ship’s kitchen she forgot the words she’d rehearsed, lost her train of thought, couldn’t quite line the letters up anymore. Maybe it was because she felt rude (not that that had stopped her before) or intrusive (not that she hadn’t asked many people incredibly intrusive questions) or maybe it was the tenseness that Caduceus held in his shoulders...Either way she lost her nerve.Several days later she tries again.
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha, Caduceus Clay & Beauregard Lionett, Jester Lavorre/Beauregard Lionett, Jester Lavorre/Beauregard Lionett/Yasha
Comments: 18
Kudos: 252





	i'm a can on a string, you're on the end

**Author's Note:**

> oh boy. i typed this all up today. it hurt my brain but it was worth it.
> 
> songs that inspired the vibes:  
> Souvenir - boygenius  
> Would you rather - phoebe bridgers (this is where the title's from!)
> 
> i may not always have the spoons to reply, but kudos & comments are truly appreciated <3 <3  
> stay safe everyone <3

She’d meant to talk to Caduceus several days ago. She’d purposely asked him if he wanted to make some tea and tagged along. But as they stood in the ship’s kitchen she forgot the words she’d rehearsed, lost her train of thought, couldn’t quite line the letters up anymore. Maybe it was because she felt rude (not that that had stopped her before) or intrusive (not that she hadn’t asked many people incredibly intrusive questions) or maybe it was the tenseness that Caduceus held in his shoulders, the shaky way he spooned a foraged tea blend into a set of chipped teacups. 

Either way she lost her nerve, only offering an awkward “You doing okay, Duceus?” as she watched him set the teapot and cups on a tray.

To which Caduceus replied: “I’m just fine. Tired, I think.”

Several days later Beau tries again.

“Hey, Caddy,” she says when she finds him in the kitchen, where he most often is.

“Hey,” he replies.

He doesn’t turn around, and he keeps on tipping the remnants of a tea blend from a pouch and into a single cup.

“You making tea?” Beau asks, then mentally kicks herself. _Obviously. Great conversation starter as always. Real smooth._

“Mm,” Caduceus nods. “This is the Castallas again, the last I have of theirs.”

“I guess you can get more next time you go home,” Beau says.

“Yeah. I guess so.” Caduceus leans his palms against the edge of the table, sighs like he’s exhausted.

Beau takes a deep breath, rehearsing what she’ll say several times over.

“I wanted to ask you something…” she says, stepping besides Caduceus as he fills the teapot with water.

“Mm?”

_Don’t fuck this up._

And like that, the carefully constructed questions Beau had memorised are gone, a mess.

_Please —gods— be tactful. At least be tactful._

“Are you in love with Fjord?” she blurts out. _Fucking idiot._

Caduceus whips his head round to look at her, mouth slightly agape, caught mid gasp. And _wow,_ this might be one of the only times Beau has seen him truly shocked. Then again, it wasn’t so long ago that she’d seen him truly furious for the first time, standing protectively over Fjord’s body.

He’s staring at her still. And then he vanishes, abandoning his tea on the table.

“Wait, Cad,” Beau says into the empty room. He reappears by the door, on the other side of the kitchen table. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t meant to come out like that.”

Caduceus slowly turns to face her again and — _oh, shit—_ he looks like he’s about to cry. It’s yet another unusual, pained expression on him, one that hurts deep in Beau’s chest and makes her think: _Fucking hell, what’ve we done to him?_

“That was tactless, man. I’m sorry.”

Caduceus tightens his jaw. “I love you all very much,” he says.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I—” He looks hurt, confused. “I care about you all so much—”

“You’re dodging the question, man,” Beau exclaims, too loudly. She cringes as Caduceus’ ears flatten against his head. “ _Fuck_. I just— I meant… _Shit_ …I should’ve started off better. Like, built up it.”

Caduceus just stares at her. Maybe he even looks a little angry, an eyebrow twitching and a crease forming between them. Though he mostly looks sad, pale violet half-moons beneath his glassy eyes.

“Look, I saw how upset you were when he died. How you—”

“We all were,” says Caduceus quietly.

“No, I mean — _Fuck_.” Beau pulls her hands down her face. “I see how you look at him. I see how you look at each other whenever Fjord says a word you haven’t heard before! I was there when you were wasted and rambling about how cool it is when he shouts _eldritch blast_ , which —by the way— is so lame. But still!”

Caduceus presses his lips together, sucks his cheek in like he’s biting it. 

“Beau…” he says.

“What?” she snaps, not meaning to.

“Beau, he died.”

That takes her aback, spluttering. Of course he did. She was there and it was awful —so fucking awful— and it keeps her awake at night, but he’s alive now, he’s alright. He’s safe.

Caduceus is still staring. He swallows hard and sways a little, or maybe the it’s the rock of the boat in the ocean beneath them. He lowers his eyes to his bare feet on the rough wood floor.

“I…Yeah,” Beau replies eventually.

Caduceus folds inwards. He’s trying so hard not to cry, breathing short, hissed breaths, one arm wrapped around himself, the other beneath his draping hair, covering his face. He takes a step back, body searching for somewhere to run away to, and he sinks against the wall, between crates and a sack of flour.

“Oh, Caddy,” Beau whispers. There’s heat building behind her own eyes.

She hesitates, looking around before closing the kitchen door and jamming it with a chair for privacy’s sake, and crouching besides Caduceus.

“I— I didn’t mean to…” She trails off. “Let me — Uh.” And she grabs a clean cloth from the makeshift washing line that hangs above the table, holding it out to Caduceus. 

He ignores it, or doesn’t notice. He keeps his knees drawn in, a hand still covering his face, the other now pressed to his chest and trembling with each ragged breath. 

“Hey…” Beau sits besides him. “Hey, man. It’s alright.” She wraps an arm around his quaking shoulders and squeezes gently, wishing she was half as good at comforting people as Jester or Caduceus is.

She thinks back to after they stole the boat, to when Jester helped Caduceus to breathe through a panic attack as she stood besides them — a beacon of awkward moral support.

“Take deep breaths,” Beau says. “Big, deep, meditation breaths.”

Caduceus peers at her from behind his hand, expression pained.

“Come on. Breathe…Big ol’ fuckin’ breaths…Count to eight each time.”

He struggles, but eventually he manages, sucking in a long inhale and blowing out a broken, rumbly exhale as he holds back a cry. Beau offers him the cloth again and he takes it, burying his face in it.

“Gods, Cad…” Beau sighs shakily, quickly wiping tears from her cheeks. “That— I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Please don’t tell him,” says Caduceus, voice hoarse and barely there. “It’d just cause problems.”

Beau’s brow creases. “What? How?”

“I… I owe all of you so much…That’d be too much. Another thing to worry about… It’s my work, my duty, to guide him towards the Mother, to help him grow from Uk’otoa…” His voice leaves him again, last words coming out strangled. He says something in Sylvan, something with the intonation of a cuss. “If he knew… Oh, I can’t be selfish like that.”

Beau shakes her head in disbelief. 

“You’re acting like hanging out with us is a job or something,” she says. “You don’t owe us or have to repay us or anything to stay with us, Cads.” 

Caduceus huffs a sigh into the cloth he still holds against his face, bouncing his leg like Caleb does when he’s reading. Beau rubs a circle against his shoulder. 

“We care about you. And we help each other…There’s no debts,” she tells him. “That’s…how friends work.”

She says it like it’s sad that it isn’t obvious to him, like she can’t quite believe she’s telling someone this. Then she remembers where they found Caduceus, alone in a graveyard, rambling to them about dead people and tea. Nila gave him his first hug in years.

His family seemed sweet, seemed like nice folk, kind folk. But, she thinks, nice parents can fuck you up too, even if they mean well. 

_ Nearly a decade alone will fuck you up pretty good. Just as good as being sent away because your father hates you for being born. _

“Hey,” Beau whispers, and she pats Caduceus on the shoulder until he looks up from his knees. When he meets her eyes she opens her arms and let’s him slowly lean into them. His long arms wrap all the way around her and she hugs back, tight across his back. He makes a low, rumbly noise, almost a purr. 

“You’re good at hugs,” he says.

“Thanks. So are you.”

Caduceus laughs softly. “You look so awkward when you hug Caleb.”

Beau laughs into his hair, soft against her cheek. It’s kind of sun-bleached now, paler at the top, turning white. It’s also kind of tangled.

As they hug Beau sighs a long, long sigh, closing her eyes.

For the hundredth time she sees Fjord fall from the crow’s nest, hears her own scream muffled in the rain. She sees the blood and the insects and the pink lichen blooming on the gaping wound in Fjord’s chest.

That was so fucking much.

“When are you going to tell Jester?” asks Caduceus. 

_Of course. Of course he knows_. 

Beau stills, waiting for clarification, pretending that she needs it. 

“About how you feel,” he adds.

Beau sighs into Caduceus’ hair. “Gods. I don’t know, Cad… Same time you’re going to tell Fjord, I guess.”

Caduceus laughs a short laugh, tired and quiet.

Beau pulls back from Caduceus’ arms. _You’re like a brother to me_ , she wants to say. _You and Caleb and Fjord._ But that’s embarrassing, too sentimental, so instead she says: “Hey… Let’s finish making that tea.”

And Caduceus replies: “Yeah.. That would be nice.”

Beau gets up and Caduceus follows suit. He sets the water to boil, sighing. “Beau?”

“Yeah, man?”

“Do you…” Caduceus hums, thinking. “Would you like to smoke with me?”

_Oh… huh._ That’s not what she expected. “Like, weed?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure? This isn’t an unhealthy coping mechanism you’ve decided to start right now, right?”

Caduceus chuckles. “I smoke on occasion… To ease pain, to calm my nerves.” He looks down at his hands as he pours steaming water into a cup for himself, and then a second for Beau (filled with a different blend, bought in Nicodranas). “My nerves are very frayed.”

“Sure. Okay,” replies Beau. “I have some.”

“I do, too. From home.”

“Oh man. I bet Blooming Grove weed is a million times better than the shit I bought.”

Caduceus smiles. “Probably.” 

☾

They make pillows out of folded, empty supply sacks in the corner of the kitchen, tucked back into the space between crates and barrels. 

They sit with their tea besides them as Beau lights her jade pipe. She offers it to Caduceus first but he waves his hand. “Go for it,” he says.

Beau does, and coughs. “Oh, fuck. This is strong.”

“Yeah,” Caduceus agrees, taking the pipe. “The kitchen’ll smell like it for days. I was smoking when I made that pillow-fort in the crow’s nest…Just lay up there and watched the clouds… That was nice.” He inhales for a long time, slowly, and holds it. He exhales with his eyes closed. 

As they smoke Beau’s thoughts find their way back to her family, the horrible, awkward conversation with her father. Her Mother. Her little brother.

Then they flit to when she spoke to Isharnai — _You almost left forever_.

“Fuck,” Beau says, blowing out smoke.

“Fuck,” Caduceus agrees. He sighs. “Dying is a lot. Relationships are a lot. Families are a lot… Everything is a lot.”

Beau nods. “I’m sorry I was such an asshole, Cad. Like, when we met your family.”

“You’d just gone through a lot, with your own family,” Caduceus replies. “I don’t… I can’t blame you.”

“Yeah, but— I should’ve been nicer. And we shouldn’t’ve messed with the temple ’n stuff.”

Caduceus doesn’t say anything to that.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

“No, man,” says Beau, louder than she means to. “You don’t have to say it’s alright. It wasn’t. It was disrespectful and shitty. And I got drunk. It was so stupid. Just let me say sorry for it…on behalf of everyone.”

Caduceus puffs smoke at the ceiling. “You don’t need to apologise for other people. Only yourself.”

“I— Yeah.” Beau remembers her tea and sips it, it’s good. “I’m sorry Caduceus. I really mean it.”

“Thanks,” replies Caduceus. “I forgive you.” He shifts besides her, and hands the pipe back as he uncrosses his legs so they’re stretched long in front of him, curling his tail into his lap. He holds it, running his fingers over the soft fur on the end. Quietly he says: “I didn’t really want you — the Nein, I mean — and my family to mix. That’s why everything was weird and bad and… Oh, I don’t know.”

Beau looks at him. “Why not?”

“Oh. Well…” He takes the pipe from Beau when she offers it and takes a hit, holding his breath for a long time. Stalling, probably. “I don’t think the me you know and the me they know is the same person…I think, somewhere in the last ten years I split into two.”

_Okay. Yeah… That makes sense._

“I get that,” says Beau. “I’m nowhere near the same person my family wanted me to be anymore.”

Caduceus nods.

“I guess it’s different when you hate everything your family wants you to be,” she adds. _Do you? Really?_ “Or if just hate your family, I guess… Do you want to be what they want you to be?”

There’s a grumble as Caduceus wipes his eyes, keeps his hand covering his face. 

“So badly.” He mutters, sighing a big, trembling sigh. “And also not at all. I don’t know who I am.”

_Shit — Yeah. That’s exactly it._

“This is really shitty — But we always thought you were the one with your shit together and didn’t question it. Y’know, you have your Wildmother, and you were always talking about how she’d guide you. Like, at first,” says Beau, a couple words slipping together. “And I don’t know why we did that. Because, no offence but you were kinda fuckin’ crazy out-of-it when we found you… But, like, we all were. And then you took on this group therapist role and none of us realised…” She sighs. “That was fucked up.”

Caduceus doesn’t reply for a while. “I like helping,” he says eventually. “Being there for people.”

“I know but…You don’t don’t get to neglect yourself because of that.”

It’s quiet for a while, as they pass the pipe back and forth, till it’s almost done.

Beau breaks the silence first, a little more relaxed. “So… You’ve got it bad, huh?”

Besides her, Caduceus exhales smoke through his nose, nostrils flaring, and laughs half-heartedly.

“If you want I can talk to him.”

Caduceus looks a little horrified.

“No, no. Don’t worry,” Beau assures him. “Not directly. I’ll be subtle.” She punches Caduceus on the shoulder, maybe a little too roughly.

“Maybe,” he replies, a faint rosiness on the ends of his ears and across his nose. He smiles in a fond, embarrassed way, as if the _maybe_ is a _yes_ he’s too afraid to say. “You remind me of my sister sometimes.”

“The colourful one with the bugs?” asks Beau.

Caduceus laughs. “No, Calliope.”

“Ah. Cool. The hot one.”

“That’s… _Hm_. That’s a weird thing to hear someone say about your sister.”

“You encouraged it when Yasha made a move,” says Beau. 

Caduceus smiles, setting the finished pipe on the floor besides his legs. “Yeah. Guess I did.”

Beau leans her head against his shoulder, suddenly very sleepy. “Is Calliope a piece of shit like me?”

“You’re not a piece of shit,” says Caduceus. “I just mean she used to punch my shoulder like that. And she’s tough like you…She broke my knee once. It was an accident, though.”

“Ow.” Beau cringes. 

She tries to imagine stoic, badass Calliope and gentle, sleepily smiling Caduceus as children in the Grove, bugging each other before her own parents were even born. Then her thoughts wander and tumble and end upon Reani, escorting the Clays home. They’ve probably arrived by now.

“Do you think Calliope and Reani are getting along?” Beau asks, raising an eyebrow.

Caduceus groans, pulling a face, ( _there, a split second of Caduceus as a child, annoying his siblings_ ) _._ “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” he replies, then lifts his teacup to his mouth and drinks. “Hm. Lukewarm.”

“Aw.” Beau lets her eyes close. “Do you think the others are wondering where we are?”

“Maybe. The Travellercon planning seems to be. Uh…really, um…enthralling right now.”

“I don’t know if that’s the right word.”

“Me neither.” Beau can hear the smile in Caduceus’ voice, the edge of a laugh.

“We should check on them.”

“Yeah.”

Beau staggers to her feet, nearly tripping over Caduceus’ long, long legs as she dusts flour off her backside. 

“Beau,” he says. She turns to look at him. “I think… I think Jester loves you too. The same way you love her — not just friends. I just think she doesn’t realise what that feeling means yet…She’s always so happy to see you, you know.”

Beau’s chest swells with warmth and — _Oh, fuck—_ with a want to cry again. She swallows down the tears, shrugs them off. Suddenly she’s very interested in how a loose floorboard creaks beneath her foot.

“I think Fjord’s the same,” she says.

Caduceus gazes forlornly into his tea. “Oh dear…” he sighs. And then he says: “Well…At least if they ask why our eyes are red we can say it was the weed.”

Beau snorts as she helps Caduceus to his feet, pulling him upright, which takes a moment. Then she pulls the chair from where she lodged it under the door handle and opens the door. 

“I think I’m going to take a nap,” says Caduceus as he unwraps the remnants of the weird, kinda-edible, very dry cake from a bread-cloth. He cuts it into two thick slices and hands one to Beau. He puts his into his pocket. “I’m going to…sleep in the crow’s nest.”

“Maybe don’t try climb up there while you’re stoned?” says Beau. Then she has a thought. “Oh hey. Wanna help out with whatever Travellercon thing Jester’s working on?”

Caduceus nods. “Alright. Last I checked she was working on our priest cloaks.”

“Could be fuckin’ anything by now,” Beau says as they walk through the hall and begin up the staircase to the deck of the ship. 

Caduceus laughs behind her, “Yeah. Anything.”

“Like a huge dick-shaped banner,” muses Beau, helping Caduceus clamber up the last of the steep steps. 

They wander over to where Jester, Yasha and Veth are sitting in a circle, fabric draped across their knees. The cloaks are folded besides them and the fabric in their laps is painted with half-finished calligraphy and several flowers. And it is undoubtably phallic in shape. 

“You were right,” whispers Caduceus, a little giddily. 

“Oh!” Jester springs to her feet, nearly upturning the palette besides her. “Hey, Beau! Hey, Caduceus!”

“Hey,” they reply in unison.

Yasha waves a small wave between painting tiny white and blue flowers along the edge of the banner. They’re pretty. _Like Yasha._

Veth eyes Beau and Caduceus suspiciously. “What happened to you two? You look like shit,” she says.

Beau flips her off.

Jester raises her eyebrows and gasps, delighted. “Are you two _stoned_ or something?”

“Maybe.”

“Yeah.” Caduceus takes his piece of cake (it’s crumbled into several pieces now) from his pocket and just holds it, letting crumbs fall onto the deck. “Want some?” he asks.

“Oh. My. Gosh, you guys,” exclaims Jester. She takes some cake in her hand and shoves it into her mouth. “Thanksh, Caduceus.”

“From his pocket?” asks Veth.

“Mine hasn’t been in my pocket,” says Beau, offering it Veth, who breaks it in half and takes some. “Why do you even care? We eat pocket bacon all the time. You ate a rat.” 

Veth grumbles as she chews.

“Do you guys want to help paint this banner with us?” asks Jester. “Or you could make programs if you want to.”

Caduceus and Beau look at each other and shrug, as if to say, _it’s probably best that we’re stoned._

“Sure. Girls' night,” says Caduceus. He gestures vaguely to the sun setting on the horizon, reflecting orange across the indigo ocean. “...It’s almost nighttime.”

“Girls' night,” agrees Yasha quietly. 

Jester’s eyes light up (and Beau’s heart melts).“Girls' night! Girls' night! Girls' night!” she chants. 

And soon they’re all chanting it, seating themselves around the dick-shaped banner with paintbrushes in hand.

(Despite the Traveller not really being a god it feels a little sacrilegious. _Second-hand sacrilegious for the poor fucks who’re going to show up to Travellercon and see a banner in the shape of a penis._ )

Beau can’t help but laugh. Jester giggles besides her, watching curiously.

From where she sits Beau can see the freckles on her shoulders in the fading light, the slight sunburn across her cheeks, rosy and violet. She feels her giddy laugh radiate outwards from her, warm like sunlight. She feels the graze of her hand against her own as they reach for the same turquoise paint.

Across the deck Beau notices Fjord, watching them as he chats with Caleb, his smile questioning yet fond. She notices the way his eyes linger on Caduceus as he slumps against Yasha, hair falling over his face, and she notices the bashful way he looks away.

And she hopes he knows how much that would mean to their tall friend. Even if he doesn’t realise it yet.


End file.
